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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967529">The Christmas Competition</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueboxesandtrafficcones/pseuds/blueboxesandtrafficcones'>blueboxesandtrafficcones</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>31 Days of Ficmas 2020 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas Decorations, Christmas Ornaments, Competition, F/M, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Family Fluff, First Christmas, Gen, Insecurity, Misunderstandings, paint your own pottery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:13:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,928</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967529</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueboxesandtrafficcones/pseuds/blueboxesandtrafficcones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose’s first Christmas as a Tucker drops her in the middle of long-held traditions and competitions, and is pleasantly surprised by the experience.</p><p>A Nuptial Necessity fic.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clara Oswin Oswald &amp; Rose Tyler, Twelfth Doctor/Rose Tyler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>31 Days of Ficmas 2020 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037040</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>31 Days of Ficmas 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Christmas Competition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Day 5 of 2020′s 31 Days of Ficmas.</p><p>Prompt: ornament</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey.”</p><p>Rose looked up from the email she was reading to grin at Malcolm as he leaned his hip against the corner of her desk.  “Hey.”</p><p>Her husband smiled back, stealing a handful of banana-flavored jelly beans from the dish she’d taken to keeping on the desk for him, popping several into his mouth.  “How’s it going?”</p><p>“Good.”  She shrugged, glancing back at her email and determining it could wait before minimizing the screen.  Folding her arms on the desk she leaned forward, giving him all her attention.  “Reservation’s at three, so Graham’ll be here in about ten minutes.”</p><p>“Great, thanks.  I’m looking forward to it – been putting the finishing touches on my design.  It will <em>definitely</em> be better than Clara’s.”</p><p>Rose merely shook her head fondly.  “It’s not a competition.  It’s about spending time with your daughter and reflecting on the year.  And more importantly, you owe Ace a call, so hurry up.  I’ll knock when Graham’s here.”</p><p>“You’re the best.”  He took another small handful of jelly beans, before making a show of checking if anyone was watching.  They weren’t, isolated in the corner as Malcolm’s office and by extension Rose’s desk was, so he leaned down and gave her a quick peck.  “Can you get Ace on the line?”</p><p>“Yes, yes, just shoo,” she waved him away, dialing from memory with one hand while the other straightened the now-askew candy dish.  Once the call was connected she hung up, leaning back into her chair as her smile fell.</p><p>His <em>reservation</em> was his annual meetup with Clara at a local paint-your-own-pottery place; for at least as long as Rose had known them they’d go together in early December to paint an ornament for their tree, the theme being to commemorate the year.  Rose had been making their reservations since she started working for Malcolm, had heard thousands of stories about their experiences, and this year had been no different.  Except, perhaps naively, she’d expected (well, hoped) to be invited along, now that she and Malcolm were married.  <em>Danny’s never gone</em>, she reminded herself once again, thinking of her best friend’s long-term boyfriend.  <em>It’s their father-daughter tradition</em>.</p><p>That didn’t make it ache any less.</p><p>Her mobile chirped, a message from Graham saying that he was there, and she swiped at her cheeks before turning around and knocking on the glass wall; Malcolm gave her a thumbs up in response, and a minute later, appeared in front of her desk shrugging into his coat.  “Ready?”</p><p>“Graham’s downstairs,” she confirmed, offering him a small but genuine smile.  “Have fun.”</p><p>Malcolm merely blinked at her, continuing to stand there as if waiting for something while she busied herself with straightening a stack of papers.  When he didn’t move, she bit back a sigh and looked up.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“What do you mean, <em>what</em>?”  His brow furrowed, and he checked his watch.  “You’re cute, but c’mon- we ought to be leaving.”</p><p>It was Rose’s turn to blink.  “What d’you mean?”</p><p>Malcolm’s head tilted, expression going from confused, to surprised, to soft.  “Sweetheart, you’re coming too.  You did include yourself in the reservation, didn’t you?”</p><p><em>Oh, thank God.</em>  Relief quickly melted to annoyance.  “Of course not,” she scowled at him.  “Why would I?  You didn’t say!”</p><p>“I didn’t realize I needed to!”  He chuckled, dropping his backpack in favor of coming around her desk to crouch in front of her, putting them on the same eye level.  “Rose, my love, of <em>course</em> you should join us.  It’s your home, and your tree as well.  And quite frankly, we just want you to be there.  Clara suggested having you join us a few years ago, but… to be honest, it felt a little too much like trying to play happy families when you don’t love me as I do you, or so I believed at the time.  I’m sorry I didn’t specify you were included, because it didn’t even occur to me to do so – I want you with me at every moment.”</p><p>Rose sniffled, tears returning for a different reason.  “Don’t do that,” she thumped him lightly on the shoulder.  “Don’t say such wonderful things to me with no warning.”</p><p>“I’m going to say wonderful things to you whenever I feel like it,” he countered, grinning, using his thumb to wipe her cheek.  “Now, can we go?”</p>
<hr/><p>Despite Malcolm’s kind reassurances, she was still nervous walking up to the pottery place, clinging to him more than usual.  Clara was already inside looking over the options, though she must have sensed their presence because she glanced towards the door just as they walked in.  Face lighting up, she hurried over to them.</p><p>“Hey, you two,” Clara greeted them warmly, pecking her father’s cheek before hugging Rose.  “Hope you’re ready, because I’ve got a <em>brilliant </em>design already planned, and it’s going to be <em>so</em> much better than yours.”</p><p>“Hi,” Rose smiled in return, before turning to the hostess.  “Tucker?  Erm, party of three, but the reservation was only for two.  I hope that’s not an issue?”</p><p>The hostess, Karen, shook her head.  “Not at all – you picked a good day, we’re quiet so far.  With me, please.”</p><p>She guided them to a small table-top as Clara frowned.  “Why was the reservation for two?”  Her expression turned uncertain.  “Sorry, this wasn’t just for the two of you, was it?  I mean, you added it to my calendar-”</p><p>“No, no,” Malcolm said smoothly as they settled, “just a misunderstanding between us – all fixed now.”  He turned his attention to Rose, raising an eyebrow.  “See?”</p><p>Rose’s cheeks heated, and she bit her lip before admitting to Clara, “I didn’t realize I would be invited.”</p><p>“Of course you are.”  Clara looked bewildered.  “You’re a Tucker now.”</p><p>“Yeah, but… you don’t invite Danny.”</p><p>They stood up then, wandering towards the wall of potential projects, the two women falling into step as Malcolm went in a different direction.</p><p>“Maybe once we’re married, but it’s more to do about celebrating the holiday – he’s not there on Christmas morning, so he doesn’t get an ornament.  We decided years ago, once I started dating, on that rule.  Now technically I won’t be there Christmas morning, as I’ll be with Danny, but we’re actually booked to come next week just the two of us, sort of start the tradition for ourselves now that we live together.  I <em>told</em> Dad to make it clear you were invited now, and he said he would, but… he’s an idiot.  You could’ve just asked.”</p><p>Rose picked up a wreath ornament, confiding to it, “I didn’t want to barge my way in.  I know how special your relationship with him is, and by being your best friend <em>and</em> his wife <em>and</em> his PA, it feels like I’m always a part of what you two get up to nowadays- and did even before that, honestly- and I just… don’t want to overstep.  Or push my way in.  You deserve time just the two of you, too.”</p><p>Clara was silent as they moved down the line, and when she finally spoke, her tone was hurt.  “Are you getting tired of me?”</p><p>“What?  No!”  Rose spun to face her, surprise written on her face.  “Of course not, you’re my best friend!  I was worried <em>you</em> were getting sick of <em>me</em>!  That- that- that maybe you might start to resent that I’m <em>always</em> there when you see your dad!  I’m at your house, I’m at his office…  Your relationship with him is <em>so</em> important to both of you, and to me!  I just… I don’t know how to balance this, yet.  I guess.”  She turned away, ostensibly focusing on a snowman.</p><p>“Hey.”  Clara tugged on her sleeve, forcing her back.  “You’re my best friend too.  And, yeah, it’s a bit weird, you being with my dad, but… that’s my problem.  Well, not problem, but… I know how happy you make each other.  I supported this before you were together, remember?  So as long as I don’t <em>see</em> anything, and we can all agree that any future siblings I have from you arrive via stork or immaculate conception, then it’s all good.  You’re not a third wheel with us; you’re our third Musketeer.  You two are my two favorite people on the planet- don’t tell Danny- and getting to spend so much time with <em>both</em> of you is just… mind-blowingly awesome.  You are not only welcome, you’re required.  Got it?”</p><p>“Got it.”  Rose nodded, and Clara opened her arms wide.</p><p>They were still hugging when Malcolm appeared at their side.  “Hate to break up the love fest, but can we get a move on?” he asked, impatience deepening his Scottish burr.  “I’ve got a competition to win.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m definitely going to win,” Clara said confidently, pulling away from Rose with a grin.  “Bring it.”</p><p>Rose just rolled her eyes, following them back to the table.</p><p>
  <em>What have I gotten myself into?  Be careful what you wish for, I suppose.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>A week later she let herself into the town house, already shaking her head at the squabbling drifting towards her from the parlor.  Hanging her coat up she followed the noise, finding Malcolm and Clara standing in front of the fireplace, each holding a stocking and stocking holder.</p><p>“Should I come back?”</p><p>“Tell him he’s being ridiculous,” Clara ordered, not even glancing her way.  “You agree with me, right?”</p><p>“Hey, hey, hey,” Malcolm protested, “she’s <em>my</em> wife!  She agrees with <em>me</em>!”</p><p>Rose just sighed fondly, setting the box with their fired ceramic ornaments on the coffee table and moving closer.  “Now now, children, one at a time.  What’s the issue?”</p><p>“Dad wants to hang the stockings up left to right by <em>age</em>,” Clara said with disgust.  “D’you believe this?  That would be him, Danny, you, then me.”</p><p>Rose wrinkled her nose at that.  “Eh.  And you?”</p><p>“Alphabetical.  Me, Danny, Dad, you.  That way the couples are together.”</p><p>She pursed her lips, considering the idea.  “And all four of us are getting stockings?”</p><p>Two nods.</p><p>“At least you can agree on that,” she teased.  “How about Malcolm, me, you, then Danny?  Couples together, women on the inside, men on the outside?  Does it really matter, anyway?  What did you do last year?”</p><p>“This is the first Christmas with partners,” Malcolm explained.  “Or without Wallace.  He was always on the left- said it was his right as the owner- I was on the right, and Clara in the middle.  I suppose it’s possible we were getting carried away.”</p><p>Clara nodded.  “I can agree to that compromise.  Fair enough, I suppose.”</p><p>Malcolm shrugged one shoulder.  “As you wish, darling.”</p><p>“Great.  Now, I’m almost afraid to ask- is there a specific tradition involving the new ornaments I should know about?”  Rose eyed the large crate that sat innocently on the floor, appearing to be full of similar quasi-homemade decorations from Christmases past.  Considering how competitive they could be, she suspected plenty of complex rules in her immediate future.</p><p>Ever the teacher, Clara launched into a detail explanation, moving towards the crate as Rose caught Malcolm’s eye.  He grinned in return, eyes twinkling, before turning to hang the stockings.  Stepping out of her heels and resigning herself to the madness she’d married into, Rose padded towards her friend, listening intently.  This was her chosen family, had been for so long really, that it was an absolute delight to join their kooky traditions.</p><p>And, when all was said and done, was honored beyond words when the trio of snowmen she’d painted as Three Musketeers hung front and center on the tree.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading!  There may very well be more Christmas fic set in this verse by the time Ficmas is over; it's been fun revisiting them!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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